Fresh Start
by sseraphiim
Summary: Elliot has been away from SVU for five years after being ripped out of Olivia's life, seemingly for good. His sudden return stirs up some familiar and unfamiliar feelings that Olivia can't make sense of.


_I'm not really in the SVU fandom but my crazy friend makes me watch so I know them pretty well. This started out as a joke and just took off from there! My first ever fan fic. The first few paragraphs are really a parody, because the joke was Elliot has been stranded on an island and that's why he never contacted Olivia after the Save Benson fiasco. It gets serious after the paragraph that starts with "Without warning, he's in front of her door." Happy reading! THIS IS FOR YOU JACKIE._

* * *

Elliot's heart is racing, the skin on his face burns from the cold wind whipping at his face, the Manhattan wind tunnels he did not miss wile stranded on that damn island. Olivia, however, he did miss. More than anything. More than his wife. More than the job (definitely more than the job) more than the coffee he would get on weekends at that special shop on the corner. He would bring a cup home for his wife when really he wished he was bringing a cup home for Olivia. All kinds of fucked up.

He only had enough money on him to pay for a cab halfway to her apartment, and he's been walking for an eternity because he doesn't know what he'll say. He doesn't know if she even lives in that apartment anymore. He doesn't know if she has a husband, or a boyfriend, or if her hair is still long enough to put into a ponytail or if maybe she got that stupid short haircut again.

His feet are killing him but it's all worth it for her. It's all worth if for Olivia. He doesn't know how he'll explain that he's been stranded on a deserted island for years. Somehow he's back in New York. It's all a blur to him because all he can see is the way she looked with his stupid hoodie on that one night when they sat on his steps, and the way her eyes were shining with things his were mirroring back at her, and he was stupid so, so incredibly stupid for leaving her without a word. She won't want to see him. He should turn back now. He should go back to that island.

How did he get off that island? The memories come in flashes, a hidden cave, a rescue flare, helicopter blades throwing sand in his face. A stretcher, the hospital, vital signs, newspaper interviews. He'll be famous.

All of a sudden he's at her building. All of a sudden he's pressing the buzzer to ring up to her, and when he hears her voice – "Who is it?" – he has to brace his hand against the wall to keep himself from falling over. He murmurs back "Pizza," and is met with silence.

"I think you have the wrong address I didn't order a pizza."

"Are you Olivia? Someone ordered you a pizza."

Olivia's voice does not echo over the speaker again.

To his surprise, the door clicks and he's able to get into the lobby. In the back of his mind, he thinks that something's up, his detective skills kicking into gear. Olivia would never let a stranger in, especially one with as weak an excuse as _someone ordered you a pizza._ But blind hope pushes him forward. All he can see is Olivia's face. He's never forgotten her face. Her voice had become hazy over the last few years, but hearing it again on that stoop just now, even muffled through the speaker, roused something inside him. He can feel himself thrumming back to life as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors glide open.

Without warning, he's in front of her door and his hand is raising to knock involuntarily, and he still doesn't know what he's going to say. He knocks once, twice, three times. He waits.

He hears the chain unlock, hears his blood roaring in his ears. When the door opens, he sees the face he's never forgotten, and sees the emotions flash in her eyes. She doesn't say anything, he doesn't say anything. Time stands still for the two of them, their lives tethered to each other by a thin thread pulled taut with emotional baggage on both ends. Her upbringing, his mistakes, his betrayal.

He's the first one to speak. It's the least he can do, he's surprised she hasn't already slammed the door in his face. "Olivia," he says, and it's a whisper, not a strong declaration of love or an outburst of emotion. He knows he doesn't deserve to show that to her.

She blinks, shakes her head. Her hair's still long, longer than it's been in a while. It's almost like she hasn't had a chance for a haircut, like something (someone?) has been eating up her personal time. He feels a slight gnawing at his gut but quickly pushes it away. He has no right. He repeats her name, a bit above a whisper this time. "Olivia. Olivia, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? Elliot, I..." She's speechless and it's a rare memory, he can count on one hand the number of times he's seen her speechless. A slight smirk lifts the corner of her mouth. "I knew I didn't order pizza."

His words come out in a rush. He's not sure how much longer it will take for her to come to her senses and shut the door, tell him she'll never forgive him for what he did, that it's too late for an apology she's moved on she has a life without him. "Olivia, I had to leave, you know I had to leave. After that. After what I did. And I know it's crazy for me to be here, but you're the first place I came after I got off."

"Got off?" Her voice is firm, but quiet. In command, as always.

"I've been on a island."

"Sounds like a rough life," she says, voice leaden with anger. She's coming to her senses, and he has to be quick.

"I have no way to explain where I've been. I sound insane, I probably am insane, but after I left here, I left everything. I told my family I needed to get away. I literally got away, took a plane to an island, rented a boat. One night in particular I drowned my guilt in whisky and the boat ended up in uncharted waters. I was lost at sea, then I was stranded on an island. I've been there for five years.

"I was rescued. I was rescued, Olivia," he takes a step forward as his excitement swells, the way it always does when he wants to share something good with her, something that may make her smile, make him smile even bigger in return. In response to his step forward, she takes a small step back. But he keeps talking, needs her to know. "I don't know how I stayed alive, I should have let myself die. Because I don't deserve to live. The way I left you, the way I left my family, all the things I've done. I think I ran because I was terrified and ashamed of what I did to that poor girl, but also because I was terrified that my feelings for you are what made me act in the first place."

"Don't you dare blame me —"

"Olivia," he cuts her off. "Olivia I survived on that island because of you there's no other explanation. You, it's always you. Hell, it's always been you. I have nothing to offer you, Liv. If God exists it's either a sick joke or a beautiful miracle that he allowed me to even get to see you after what I've done. I'll leave you alone, I just need you to know I'm sorry, that I don't expect you to forgive me or say anything after this."

He waits for her for what feels like hours, and when she finally speaks it's in a whisper. "Were you planning on coming back? Were you planning on ever saying goodbye?"

"God, of course, Liv. I played the script over and over agin in my head. On repeat like a broken record." He bites his tongue because the next words that are about to leave his mouth are "I love you," but he knows he'd be met with the door.

"It's good to see you, El," she finally says. She tilts her head slightly to the right, a glint in her eyes, one he never thought he'd see again. His heart starts to flutter as her arm pushes the door open further and she takes a step back.

"Come on," she says. "There's someone i'd like you to meet."

–***–

She leans against the doorway, watching him. The apartment is quiet, Noah is still asleep, the sun hasn't even fully risen yet, but the faint glow streaming in through the windows illuminates his form on her couch, something she didn't think she'd ever have the privilege of seeing. The island – or wherever the hell he was – did him well in some ways. His skin was tanner, his face rougher, his body leaner. She watches as his chest rises and falls and is filled with the familiar longing she always had to push, push, push further and further down until it became nothing but a faint thought in the back of her mind. But her feelings for him were never a faint thought.

She allows herself one more brief moment of affection before uncrossing her arms and trekking across the room. She goes to the kitchen, banging cabinets and drawers, clinking silverware, starting a pot of coffee. She smirks when she hears him stirring. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," she says.

As she continues to bang around the kitchen, she feels the frown all over her face. Because there's no way in hell that island story is true. There's no way that Elliot Stabler, no matter what mental state he was in, would get himself stuck on an island. Whatever his story is, he can keep it to himself. She doesn't want to hear it. She wants to throw every ounce of anger at him and doesn't want to feel sympathy, or affection, or lo –

Her thoughts are cut off. "Good morning," he mumbles, suddenly very close to her. She can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Morning," she repeats. She pours the hot coffee in a mug, and shoves it into his hands. He hisses at the burning heat of the cup and she smirks, leaning back against the counter, holding hers properly by the handle. "It's been 3 days," she continues. "Don't you think it's time you went back to your family. You've been here long enough, and I've had enough time to really figure out that I am not interested in having you here. Whatever story you concocted, whatever I believed when I saw you in my doorway, I don't think I can handle another day of you here. Not after everything." She takes a sip of her coffee and it scalds her tongue, but she watches him over the mug, gauging his reaction.

His eyes flash and he says, "I don't have a family to go back to. I told you, I left them."

"Even your kids?"

"They don't want to see me, Liv. I've given them enough amo to hate me for the rest of my goddamn life." She turns away from him, towards the room where Noah sleeps. He'll be waking up soon, she'd better say what she needs to say and quick.

"You can't just show up here with an elaborate crock of shit and expect me to forgive what you missed. If you had any idea..." She can feel his eyes on the side of her face, can feel the electricity that jolts through her arm when his fingertips dare to reach out in comfort. She pulls back, turning her head back to him.

He pulls his hand back, dropping his gaze to the floor like a scolded child. "Tell me what I missed," he ventures. His voice is surprisingly brave. But he's always been brave.

"I can't tell you." A shiver runs down her spine at the flashes of memories that she let in for a brief moment, reliving the pain and the fear and the fucked to hell wish that he would be the one to save her. But as always, she had to save herself. "I can't tell you, and I won't tell you. If you need to find out what you missed, what happened while you were gone, you can ask Finn. But he's probably not going to want to talk to you either."

He's silent, and his eyes are unreadable. There's a stony set to the lines of his face that, in another life, she'd trace away with her fingertips, warm from her coffee cup. She'd soothe any nightmares he still has from the day he left, and he'd soothe the nightmares she'd let in just to feel his arms around her in comfort. She shakes the thought off because she's stronger than this. She's a mom, she a superhero. She doesn't need him.

Finally, after a few silent minutes, he speaks. "Alright, Detective," he murmurs.

"It's Lieutenant now," she replies and he freezes, his mouth parted in surprise. "One of the things you missed," she clarifies.

He tells her he knows he has to go back to his family, he tells her he knows he has to end things cleanly with Kathy. He knows it won't work out, he knows they won't take him back. As he's folding up the blanket he's been using, as he's buttoning up his shirt, she steals one last glance at him. He's a wreck, it's written all over his face. And for once in her life, she _isn_ _'_ _t_ a wreck. Her past is her past, she has Noah as her future. But this man, such an important part of her past, came to her first. She doesn't say anything to him as he finishes cleaning up the space he was occupying, she just turns towards her bedroom to wake Noah up for his breakfast. She brings him into the kitchen, sits him in the high chair and he rubs his sleepy eyes with his chubby fists.

"He's the most important thing in my life now." The words pour out of her, like water through her fingers. She can't hold back, she's been aching to scream at him for years and he's packing up to leave again, even though she told him to, even though she knows he has to. But she's so angry. "And the sad thing is, El, it could've been you." She opens up the baby food, sticks the spoon in more aggressive than necessary. She can't stop the words she's about to say. "It could've been me, Noah, and you. In a parallel universe where you never killed that poor girl, where you never met Kathy. Because I could never ask you to leave Kathy, your kids. You _kids_ , Elliot." She lets out a shuddering breath and turns around. He's staring at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. She used to be able to read him, but that day changed him. He hasn't come back from it. "You need to get a hold of yourself before you come back here again. You need to understand what happened and make sense of it, and don't you go digging around in my past. You missed what you missed."

He takes a couple steps forward, guarded. "Come back here again?" he asks.

"Is that all you got from that?!" She runs a frustrated hand through her hair, noting in the back of her mind how long it's gotten. She hasn't had time for a haircut.

"My time here," he replies, "has been more sacred to me than my time by myself on that island. If nothing else, Liv, being around you has helped me clear my head." He takes another hesitant step forward. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

They stare at each other for a while, the kitchen counter separating them. Noah is babbling in the background, playing with the spoon she left on the chair. She takes in every inch of him, of Elliot, not knowing when she'll see him again. She should never have let him in here. But he was so distraught, he clearly needed a place to stay. Since becoming a mom she's become one hell of a caretaker and she couldn't help herself. At least that's what she's telling herself, because it's better than the truth – that she will always love this man in front of her. Her anger is still simmering beneath her skin at his betrayal, because he was so incredibly selfish it should be unforgivable. She finally musters up the courage to speak. "Figure out what you need to figure out, Elliot. Welcome back to New York. If you need me, you know where to find me."

He blinks, and in a flash he's moving toward her, around the counter, into the kitchen, into her space. His arms are around her waist, he's holding her so close to him she has no choice but to hug him back, arms around his neck with her nose buried in his chest.

"I'm not leaving without a proper goodbye this time," he says into her hair. "I learned my lesson."

He lets go and she's frozen in place. Her whole body hums with pent up emotions that she can't quite place. He takes the few steps toward the door, unlocks it, turns the knob. He turns back to her and says, "I know where to find you. I'm going to finally figure it out."

When the door shuts, it doesn't feel like a goodbye. It feels like a fresh start.


End file.
